Lucidity
by Ilnethane
Summary: "Clarity is an elusive thing, my friend," she spoke the words slowly, never breaking his gaze. "It is also easy to forget that we are not always supposed to know where the path ahead will lead. Don't push yourself so; we are all just finding our way in the dark, after all..." Rated M for explicit sexual content and violence
1. Chapter 1

It is often the case in affairs of the heart that fear joins passion, for one or more of several reasons: the fear of utter rejection or the fear of a love that is not reciprocal; fear of losing oneself; of happiness; of death. But when it happens, real love – true love – is as natural and persistent as night following day. Such were the thoughts that weighed upon the mind of Anders as he and his three companions toiled up the steep path of the Wounded Coast. The ground underfoot was dry and strewn with bleached bones blown smooth by the incessant sea wind. Ahead strode Fenris, light on his feet and scowling handsomely. Varric brought up the rear and was expounding the details of his spectacular win at Wicked Grace the night before. And then there was Marion. Perfect Marion. Anders glanced at her, striding ahead of the others, leading the group up the winding coastal path with confidence, her dark hair blowing like a gossamer flag in the late afternoon breeze.  
"I swear by Andraste's flaming ashes, Hawke: she may act nonchalant, but Isabella's a sore loser!" Marion laughed as Varric did a sterling impression of the lusty pirate's pout. Her laughter was like the chiming of silver bells, thought Anders.  
He sighed.  
"What's wrong now, Blondie?" At the mention of his name, Anders was startled out of his reverie. He looked back and forth between Marion and the dwarf.  
"hmm what? Sorry?"  
"I mean, other than the usual stuff...!" Varric winked. Anders frowned questioningly.  
"I'm not sure I catch your drift, Varric. I'm sure everything is.."  
Fenris took his turn to sigh, but it was in frustration. "Are we really going to waste time asking such mundane questions of an even more mundane individual? Let's get moving." He pushed past the bemused mage, and gave a meaningful look to Hawke.  
"Fenris, wait -" said Marion, catching the elf by the arm as he passed her. " It's getting late. The trail is cold anyway so we might as well set up camp for the night, yes?" She surveyed the group, searching for agreement. It had been a very long day.  
"I'm in," said Varric, already slumped against a nearby rock.  
"Excellent! I'm starving," she announced. "I'll go and gather some wood for the fire. Your turn to cook, Varric. Make me proud."  
Varric groaned, "As if you're any judge! So what'll it be? Rabbit with water sauce, water with rabbit sauce, or the very special Anders'-mysterious-herb-thing in a watery-rabbit sauce?"

As the dwarf set about preparing the evening meal, he listened to Anders and Fenris bickering as they removed their outer layers and stretched out on the ground. He saw Anders suddenly stand up and search the rocky outcrop for Hawke's silhouette in the deepening dusk.  
"I'll be right back," he declared "going to give Marion a hand with the wood..."  
Fenris was already ignoring him as he set about polishing his armour.  
"Yep, go bring Ser Hawke back...dinner will be won-der-ful" said Varric sarcastically.

Anders rounded the boulder next to camp and walked down the sandy slope. Beyond the swaying grass stretched the vast sea, grey and red and dark in the twilight. For a moment he paused, closed his eyes and drank in the salty air. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he pursuing her? No matter how many times he'd told himself what a terrible idea it was to watch her, long for her in the night, imagine her with him, uttering his name between kisses, he knew he could never – should never – have anything of that sort ever again. Not now he held Justice within him. Yet somehow his obsession had only grown; he couldn't stay away from the remarkable brunette whom he now spotted gathering driftwood from withered trees on the rocks below him. He watched her silently for a moment before descending.  
"Anders! Come to help?"  
He laughed "Messere Hawke. Why don't you sit over there and entertain me whilst I finish the job?"  
Marion laughed, pointing at her wood pile. "All done, see. That's what agility and talent does for a girl!" she sauntered over to the rock next to Anders and slumped onto it and started rubbing a Qunari blood stain off the back of her hand.  
Anders glanced at her and smiled "Oh? And what else can agility and...talent...do for a girl I wonder?" Marion caught his eye and winked. He looked down at her. In this evening light her normally milky-pale skin shone almost golden, as did her deep brown hair. He rubbed his forehead as he thought about how her large brown eyes were already so golden...  
"something on your mind, Warden?"  
"Ugh. Please don't call me that!" He grinned, but then frowned a little as he gazed at the hand she'd been rubbing, "that's not Qunari blood. You're hurt. Let me look at that"  
"ahh, it's nothing -"  
"show!"  
"noooo"  
"Yes. I'm pulling rank, Hawke," he pointed to homself, "Healer. Right here." Taking her hand gently, he started to examine it. Did she flinch just a little when he touched her then? She seemed to be holding her breath, or was that just him?  
"mmmnn..yes, I guess it does sting a little,' she confessed.  
Anders held his hand over hers and let a delicate trail of blue magic seep into her wounded flesh. The cut closed. Hawke flexed her fingers and scrunched up her face.  
"Thanks, my trusty mage! Even though the pins and needles gets me every time..."  
"Oh! Is that why you always resist healing? You should have said something before...I can use a different technique next time,"  
He reluctantly relinquished her hand.  
The last of the sunlight stretched over land and sea before them like long fingers, touching everything and making it seem part of another, ethereal realm.  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she sighed, "I will never tire of sunsets. Each one is unique. Some spectacular, some grey. But I love this time of day, regardless"  
Anders caught a white butterfly as it drifted towards them on the breeze. He muttered an enchantment under his breath and the creature settled. "It is beautiful," he agreed, placing the butterfly in her healed hand. Marion smiled and gazed upon the fragile insect. Anders watched her as thoughts darted behind his eyes. He saw all of her in that moment – beyond the strength and drive of their charismatic leader lay a spirit that was moved by even the smallest things. His eyes traced the contours of her lips, neck, jaw...  
"Marion-" He started, mouth dry "Marion, you know that there is something I need to tell you,"  
She turned her gaze from the butterfly and held his eyes with hers, inscrutable. Strands of dark hair blowing across her face.  
Anders smiled and brushed the strands behind her left ear, "Maker's breath, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asked, unwavering, "how vibrant and...alluring? Do you realise that half of Kirkwall is already madly in love with you?"  
Marion blanched for a moment but recovered swiftly. The butterfly fluttered away toward the boundless horizon.  
"Are those rhetorical questions? Oh, well, I have heard rumours but I try not to listen to gossip when Varric's not the one spreading it!" she joked.  
Anders moved fluidly and slowly to rest his hand lightly on the side of her face, guiding her towards him. Marion's eyes widened as the kiss unfolded in slow motion. He grazed her mouth with his own, eyes fluttering shut; her breath caught in her throat. He paused, opened his eyes, before moving in again and repeating the kiss with more fervour. The merest touch of her sent a rush of heat coursing through his body. He moved his other hand to Marion's waist and pulled her against him, his tongue moving gently beyond her lips, deepening the kiss.  
He stopped and touched his forehead to hers, eyes closed. "Marion...I have wanted you so badly. You have no idea how long..."

"Anders..." she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders sat by himself in the Darktown clinic, crushing dried elfroot into pouches. It had been two weeks since that memorable encounter with Marion on the Wounded Coast, but he'd barely seen her since. He realised it must seem as if he'd been avoiding her, hiding in his clinic, burying himself in his work but thinking of her constantly. The feel of her lips upon his, of caressing the elegant curve of her neck as he pulled her body against his in the twilight...Anders felt a rush of heat just contemplating that moment.

He dropped the pouch and rested his forehead on his hands. Perhaps she was avoiding him, too. She was away now, hunting slavers in the mountains with Isabella, Aveline and Fenris. He frowned when he thought of the elf with her...alone with her? He'd seen the way Fenris responded to her presence and wondered whether he'd take the opportunity to stake his claim. Anders tried to shrug off the image. Justice was reprimanding him for the energy he expended on this obsession - energy that should be directed toward to cause of freeing mages, naturally. Suddenly he felt very angry with his life - with himself.

Deep in his reverie, Anders didn't hear the door to the clinic open. Before he knew what was happening he felt a blade of cold steel at his throat.  
"Well well, Master mage. Looks like we've found ourselves the apostate healer at last. Come quietly, apostate, and we'll bring you to the Knight Captain alive. Trust me, you won't like the alternative if you don't - and trust me, we don't care. Reward's just the same either way," The intruder's voice was female but low and coarse. He heard the laughter of others closing in behind her. "I see. Well then, it seems you have me," Anders said, his voice calm. Slowly he turned to face the six - no, seven - bounty hunters fanned out around the room. He raised his even gaze to the leader, whose grip upon his throat was tightening. "I am indeed flattered that you should bring so many for the sake of little old me," he smiled coldly, "perhaps you should have brought a few more."

Wordlessly, the mage shimmered from view and re-appeared in the far corner of the room. A shadow leapt on him from above and tore at Anders' torso, trying to grapple his staff away. He swung around and delivered a series of bolts and stabs before sending a burning fireball toward the startled group near the entrance.

The flames exploded violently, throwing all in the room to the floor. Blood sprayed and two fell dead immediately, their corpses charred and bleeding.

Anders closed his eyes and summoned before him the runic image of a paralysis seal. In a moment he felt the energy build within him before he released the spell. Four of the remaining five sell-swords froze instantly as Anders unleashed lightning and frost upon them.

He ducked the swing of the leader's sword as she charged into him, driving his staff down hard upon her neck. She fell before him and gazed unbelieving upon the crackling remains of her group.

"No, please! I beg you, spare my life-"

Breathing heavily, Anders felt the tug of Justice within his chest, fighting for control over his bodily actions. He pushed back. He would not kill unnecessarily. Not again.  
"You! A would-be bully who would destroy anything for the sake of coin? You are not worth the lyrium-drain, you bitch." He pushed her roughly towards the door, "Get out of here, before I turn you into a spider."  
The woman limped out as fast as her battered body could carry her. Anders leaned against an up-turned table, chest heaving. The place was a mess. Suddenly he heard footsteps running toward the clinic and whirled around, staff in hand.  
"Anders!" cried a familiar voice, "Maker's breath, what happened here?"  
Isabella and Varric were at the door. _Bad timing!_ Thought Anders as he collapsed heavily into a chair.  
"Didn't last long, don't worry. Looks like some bounty hunters found me at last. Isabella can you please pass me that broken pot of salve over there? I feel like hell."  
"Glad you're still in one piece, Blondie," Varric brushed some debris off Anders' tunic, "looks like they singed your goldilocks, though. Oh dear-" Anders followed the line of Varric's gaze and touched his head. The fireball he had cast in close quarters had singed his hair.  
"Oh. Great." he sighed, "I guess I need a barber. Hey, Isabella, aren't you supposed to be out on the mountain with Mari- with Hawke?"  
Isabella smiled wickedly. "Missing her are we, magey? awww that's too sweet! No, we returned this very hour. Came to see if you have any bruise salve, in fact, as well as to ask you over to the Hanged Man for a drink...maybe some food?" She had started dabbing Anders with the sweet-smelling green contents of the broken pot, across his neck and forearms.  
"I can't - look at this place!"  
"Come on, Anders. You need some social contact," Varric clapped him on the back. Anders winced. "This place ain't getting any worse far as I can see...you been cooped up too long. Come for a drink with our merry band of misfits!"  
"Anders," purred Isabella "I can't get to your wound. Loosen your tunic," She slid the lacing aside and pulled down the material covering his chest. He was scraped badly along his collarbone.  
At that moment another figure appeared at the clinic door. It was Hawke - still in armour, sword in hand.  
"By the Maker, Anders! What's going on? Are you hurt?" She hurried toward the group.  
"Bunch of brigands came for the bounty," said Varric. Marion's concern was evident,  
"Was only a matter of time, I guess. Hope you got 'em all, Anders" she said softly. She sighed and moved beside Isabella, taking the salve from her. "I'll take care of this. Why don't you lot go and scrub up? We can clean this place tomorrow. Tonight we all need a break from death and disaster."  
The others nodded in agreement. Isabella exchanged a glance with Varric and smiled as they both departed. Marion turned back to Anders, all bloodied and bruised.  
"Stupid question, I know, but how do you feel?"  
Anders chuckled weakly. "I'll live to fight another day, have no fear. But this place?" He gestured around to his chaotic clinic, "might well have to move base. What a joke."

Marion frowned slightly as her fingers skimmed the burnt ends of his blond hair. "I'm sorry Anders. We all will help you out as much as we can. You know that, right? Thank the Maker you're alright...in need of a haircut, but alright..!"

He went off to the antechamber to wash, then changed into a loose shirt and breeches. When he returned, Marion had removed her armour and proceeded to smear salve upon his collarbone: his chest felt smooth, broad and well-muscled beneath her fingers. Neither of them managed to talk much whilst she was treating him: Marion felt warm at the idea of how the rest of him must look; Anders thought his head was going to explode, feeling those cool hands touch him so delicately. he tentatively placed his own hand upon hers to guide her movements. She then draped a cloth about his shoulders and started clipping his hair with small shears. Parts were already burnt short, other parts still long and untouched giving him a mangy appearance. She cropped all of his hair short and presented him with a cracked mirror she found lying in the dust.

"I think it really suits you, Anders. Hope you like it short..." she grinned at him.

"It's fine. No big deal either way I suppose. There was a time when I would have cared more, but those days are long past..."

Marion raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I don't know. You have always taken care of yourself. You must have been positively vain back then!"  
He laughed and shot her a false cavalier smile, "You think so? Well, maybe a little. What can I say; I was young, hot-blooded and full of myself. At least I've always had a good sense of humour,"  
"Hmmm, Varric doesn't always think so, you know."  
He smiled grimly, "mmm. Maybe I should lighten up a little. Just feels sometimes like there's been waaaay too much water under the bridge. Sometimes I think I lose track of what's important: I lose the ability to see clearly the path in front of me,"  
"Clarity is an elusive thing, my friend," she spoke the words slowly, never breaking his gaze. "It is also easy to forget that we are not always _supposed_ to know what our path will be. Don't push yourself so. We are all just finding our way in the dark, after all..."

Marion took the mirror back and looked at herself in it. She saw much of her father staring back at her: Deep eyes, strong brows and pale skin. Smiling she put the mirror down and watched Anders as he fed blue healing magic into his broken skin. He stretched a little and slid off the table, rubbing his hands through his cropped hair. "Good as new, right?" he grinned and stepped closer to her, taking her left hand in his and brushing it lightly along the gash she had treated earlier. His eyes met hers and he smiled. Blue energy flowed through his hand into hers, before dispersing along the wound like slow-moving water. The sensation felt deeply intimate to Marion and she gasped lightly at the warm tingling sensation that seemed to fill her whole arm. She smiled up at him.

"Good as new," she repeated.

Anders withdrew from her, wound healed. "You amplified my spell, Marion." His eyes were wide, "Arcane Warrior indeed. I had no notion that your talents could extend to healing magic."  
She laughed softly, "I've been trying to improve. My healing skills are atrocious, as you well know!" She turned to lift a chair from where it had clattered to the ground. Anders suddenly felt very close to her. How could she evoke such passion in him? What was it about this startling woman that drew him to her like a moth to a flame?  
Before he knew himself what he was doing, he was behind her: his lips at her neck, his hands sliding between her waist and hips, "I've thought about you every moment since that evening," he spoke hoarsely into her ear, " All the things you make me feel and want...you drive me insane!"  
His hand slipped deftly between the ties of her cotton shirt to stroke the smooth skin there. Marion bit her lip and half-turned toward him, her eyes wide with surprise. As she moved she felt his hardness along her leather-clad thigh and gasped at the wave of attraction that flowed through her body. She wanted him as badly as he seemed to want her. Pure chemistry in play. She couldn't think now, not about anything. She only wanted to act. Impulsively Marion arched her back, pressing herself closer to his body, moving her thigh against him.  
Anders smiled as his mouth closed around hers. Pushing her from him slightly, he let his fingers brush carelessly against the fabric that covered her breasts. She moaned at the contact. He did it again, circling his thumb around her nipple as his tongue played inside her mouth. She broke the kiss with a gasp, lips flushed.  
"Anders," she muttered, as his fingers slid up her bare back.  
"I want you, Marion" he said, between urgent kisses, "you have no idea how many nights I have lain awake, aching for you. Imagining how you taste; how you'd feel when I'm inside you; how you'd cry out my name when I make you come,"  
The image he painted with his words sent shivers along her spine. She pulled away. "No, Anders...Not here. Not now. It's crazy!" Her lust battled with her concern as her eyes darted to the broken clinic doors. Anders leaned against the wall, breathing heavily - aroused and exhausted all at once. "We have to meet the others," she said, lowering her eyes.  
Anders sighed and nodded. "Yes. You're right. I'm...so sorry. Marion, please forgive me. I'm a fool for-"  
"No, please don't. It's me as well. There is no blame here...I'm just...concerned," she started collecting her armour up, walking about the room a little unsteadily. Anders' watched her. She stopped and looked at him, "you know I want it...want _you_...the attraction is undeniable..." she trailed off.

Anders rubbed his temples and drew another, long breath. "I have no claim upon you, Marion. And I acted rashly. Please forgive me...you should have nothing to do with one such as me. I'll leave a barrier spell on the doors - just walk straight through. Don't forget anything. "

Before she could respond, Anders had left. She felt knotted up. Confused. Emotional.

With a heavy heart she made her way windingly to the Hanged Man.


	3. Chapter 3

_Heaviness overcame him at last as he fell painfully to the freezing stone floor.  
__Grey light seeped into the high-walled chamber through a single window that was no more than a long, broken slit always just beyond his reach. The voice of the shrouded templar echoed coldly,  
_"_You never do learn, do you Mage?"  
__Anders mouthed a soundless response. Suddenly he was slammed against the wall, lifted by the invisible force of controlled raw lyrium that ran like veins within the dungeon. Red tendrils of light snaked from the darkness and penetrated his bones. The sensation was excruciating, but he barely had the strength to cry out. The voice reached his ears again:  
__"You were warned, Anders. Yet still you continue to plot, evade and run from the duty to which you are obligated. You _will_ learn obedience."_

_ More pain. He wanted to scream, but his throat was parched..._

Anders woke from the dream with a yell. The drab reality of the broken clinic flooded his senses as he gasped for breath. The dreams would forever haunt him. He ran his hand shakily through his newly-cropped hair, and at once Hawke flashed across his mind.  
_ You are weakening. Resist these trivial distractions: The Hawke woman, the past, the doubt. They should mean naught to you...  
_The voice of Justice pressed upon Anders' mind like a shadow. He had always managed to maintain a divisive wall in his psyche, to permit him a modicum of privacy. Of late it seemed to Anders that his willpower - his very sense of self - was being eroded by the being that inhabited his form. The mage feared more than anything that he might eventually lose his mind  
_Our path and goal is clear. Forget your selfish needs and focus, mage. Duty and focus, always.  
_ Anders winced at the memory this reference seemed to lay bare within him. Justice was slowly but surely removing Anders from the seat of control. He stood and poured a pitcher of cloudy water into a glass before crushing elfroot and leaves of grey rosemary into it. cobwebs played against the wall, fluttering in an unseen breeze. He lit a lamp and drank. He needed to bathe.

Again.

* * *

"Another drink, Hawke?" Varric pushed a tankard towards their distracted leader  
"Oh, yeah, thanks Varric. Next round on me ok?"  
Varric paused a moment to study her features before rising and leaning in close to Isabela, "Rivaini, for the love of Andraste's flaming undergarments, will you find out what's eating Hawke? I have to go and grab broody from the bar - he's getting carried away again.."  
Varric gestured towards the liquor stand with his chin; Fenris was knocking back measures of whisky a little too enthusiastically for his liking.  
Isabella smiled, "I'll bet the elf has something he'd just _love_ to discuss with his favourite Dwarf,  
"Between you and me, Rivaini," Varric whispered conspiratorially, "we should start charging for the counselling services we offer. Between a split-personality mage, a Tevinter escapee and a Dalish pariah I think we have ourselves a solid client base. I'd be fair and split earnings. Does 70/30? Sound good?"  
Hawke choked a little on her ale, "you _do_ realise I'm right here and can..._hear_ you and everything, right?  
"Ah! She speaks!" sang the pirate as Varric winked and sidled off towards the bar.  
Isabella changed seats and leaned forward intimately, "Oh kitten, we just miss the jokes, constant quips and disarming bravado of our mighty Championess! Why don't you just get whatever's bothering you off your well-formed chest, hmmm?"  
"Ummm, well-formed chest, Isabela? Really? That's the line you've gone for? Maker..."  
Isabela sighed, "oh alright: small but well-formed. Better, yes? You always were a stickler for details, honeybun,"  
_This is going to be a long evening_, Marion thought to herself.  
"Don't worry, I'm waaaay ahead of you anyway, Hawke. I was just trying to be polite-" Marion had to laugh at this, "-but it's as clear as day to me, and anyone else who has eyes to see, that it's our very own glowy mage who's got under your skin. Am I wrong?"  
Marion's eyes widened as she sat in silence, clutching her pint of ale.  
"Not that I blame you," she purred, "He's soooo...muscled, big and taut for a mage, don't you think?" Isabela's eyes became sultry. But they did that a lot.  
"Can't you keep your voice down?" hissed Marion, her veneer of calm shattered at last.  
"Then tell me _everything_, Hawke!"  
Hawke gave a resigned sigh and spilled the beans, "He drives me to distraction. In truth, I've never felt this..._provoked_...over someone before! Not ever!"  
"'provoked'? Is that the best you can do, Hawke? I want delicious details!"  
Marion drummed her fingers on the wooden table and took another dip of ale. Isabella draped her arm over the back of her chair and smiled, "I wouldn't worry about the whole spirit-possession-revolutionary thing. Hint of danger, eh? Gets me excited every time! Anyway, he's utterly gone on you. You already know how to play him like an Orlesian lute, you naughty girl...but we do have a few _remarkably_ tasty specimens of manhood in our group to choose from..."  
Marion had to flash a knowing smile at the comment: Isabela was right, she'd known for a long time that Anders wanted her. Ached for her, by his own admittence. She suddenly felt a hot rush of arousal as she remembered the way he had touched her with those strong hands just hours previously.  
"Ooh! Speak of the devil!" chirped Isabela. Marion turned swiftly, following the pirate's gaze. Anders had walked into the Hanged Man looking rested for a few hours sleep. Isabela squeezed marion's arm and rose from her seat.  
"Anders! My, you're looking better! Nice hair, by the way. Very fetching! Nothing like a fireball to the head to catalyse a makeover, eh?"  
Anders' eyes instantly shot to figure of Hawke, who was studying the pattern in the wooden table before her concentratedly. Isabella twined a dusky arm around the mage's neck and pulled him in for a confidence:  
"Just go talk to her, pet. Maybe someplace a little more private?" She grinned wickedly and stalked off to find Fenris, Varric and Merril in the thick, overcrowded atmosphere.  
Anders heaved a sigh and approached the table. Marion's heart was hammernig in her chest as she felt him draw near.  
"Marion.." he started,  
"Anders. I...you slept well? Didn't think you'd be coming," She seemed to cut him off too early, "seemed earlier that you had no intention of discussing anything with me anymore, in fact"  
The mage sat down, "I just needed to clear my head, Marion. Sorry to walk out so abruptly. When I got back to the clinic you were gone, of course."  
He looked up into a pair of large golden eyes; Maker, why did she have to be so beautiful?  
"It's been months and months of the same, Marion. You know that I've been suppressing the need for you that haunts me night and day. It's.. I'm fighting a losing battle with myself!"  
Marion rested her chin on her hand and smiled a one-sided smile, " I am not certain you are fighting a battle with yourself at all, Anders. We both know what force is at play here..."  
Anders was always aware of Justice within him. Sometimes he knew the spirit was keenly attuned to the events unfolding in the world outside, other times it seemed to lie dormant, waiting for the tug of injustice to wake its anger. Anders had techniques to separate his soul from the spirit, but the effectiveness of these techniques were weakening the longer Justice was within him. Anders checked carefully that Justice was slumbering now, before he told Marion what he was going to attempt.  
"I want him out. It was a stupid, _stupid _mistake in the first place - one I should never have walked into with my eyes open. I was way too arrogant to assume I could control him,"  
"Anders...is that even possible? To reverse a possession without killing the host?" Marion's eyes seem to awaken with such feeling and hope that Anders felt his stomach jump with affection for her.  
"Ah, come now! Don't you have faith in you trusty and highly gifted mage? I'm mortified Messere Hawke!" He smiled crookedly at her,  
"You're an idiot, you know that?" she said.  
"Yeah - but a crafty one with _amazing_ hair,"  
Marion rolled her eyes.  
He laughed, "I've been researching this matter on the quiet for some time. It is possible...just very..._hard_." He quirked a smile at her as she reacted to his double-meaning. Under the table their knees brushed, and at once the sensation of unfulfilled desire flooded the space between them. Marion saw the need in his eyes and bit her bottom lip. He leaned towards her, "I don't want to wait any longer...I can't bear it" He said in a low voice, "Even if i'm a dangerous fool who tries in vain to resist you, I am still a man.."  
Suddenly Merril wa standing by the table "Oh! So we're almost all here then? I wonder where Aveline and Sebastian have gotten to?"  
Anders quickly rose and, far from take his leave as Marion had feared, offered Merril his seat. He then took a place beside Marion and waited for the others to join them. Today, of course, was Aveline's birthday. All friends were getting pleasantly drunk together around the large oak table by the time Sebastian dragged the unwilling redhead through the door.  
"...Sebastian! I was on duty, what are you thinking?"  
"No, lass. Donnic is covering your shift Relax. it's your birthday!"  
Aveline blushed at the menion of guardsman Donnic, but soon forgot her embarrasment when she was greeted with a roar of approval from Hawke's table.  
The evening progressed noisily. At some point Aveline found herself seated tipsily opposite Anders and Marion, flanked by Isabela, playing the drinking game Truth.  
"Hawke...Hawke...wait a secon', wait. Y'know...y'know that i really care 'bout you, right?" Aveline slurred her words slightly, "that's th real truth...you're a great warrior! And...you un'erstan' me like no one else; I reeeaaallly jus' wan' you to be happy, y'know? I really hope you can fin' an amazing man, jus' like Donnic...you deserve the best! Jus'...jus' don't choose the _wrong_ one ok? I'll tell you...I'll..protect you. Oh you're so prettyyyy!"  
Isabela, whose capacity for alcohol far outstripped her red-headed counterpart's, cocked an eyebrow as Aveline leaned against her. By this point Marion was in stitches watching the mismatched pair.  
"Ohhhh Isabela, sooo warm," cooed Aveline, "An' I'm sorry i was mean to you before..I really do like you, y'know?  
"I know, sweet thing," laughed Isabela  
"oh, this is priceless!" said Anders, "I never thought I'd live to see the day!"  
Through the slight haze of over-indulgence, Hawke became aware that Anders' hand was on her right leg under the table. She blushed and looked at him. He seemed stone cold sober, and acting charmingly non-chalant as he continued to exchanged quips with Isabella.  
_His fingers brushed her inner thigh rhythmically, slowly moving higher.  
_ "What about it, Hawke?" asked Sebastian across the table.  
Marion was startled back into consciousness by the mention of her name.  
"Oh! Yes...um, what? Sorry I..."  
"Fenris and I were just discussing how vri nice it would be if we could all have a proper gathering at your shiny new hightown pad for Varric's birthday next week. Might be an excuse to see you in a noble's attire at last...got to be worth the effort, right?"  
_Heat rushed to her cenre as he ran his fingers higher still; feather-light touches creeping tantalisingly closer, closer...  
_Fenris growled in response to the Prince's assertion, "I was saying no such thing, rogue. Keep your frippery to yourself. I have no desire to waste my time on such things-"  
"-As drinking, for example?" Sebastian finished for him. The elf looked even more irritated.  
Hawke bit her lip and pretended to laugh heartily at the exchange, but stole a glane at Anders' face beside her. A mask of calm enjoyment, he was discussing his Circle days with Isabella as she flirted shamelessly with him.  
"Got up to all sorts." said Anders playfully, "the punishment for absconding was terrible and grew steadily worse but...we had our good times, too. Plenty of intrigue..."  
_She was hot and wet, tense with anticipation. Then it happened; he brushed a finger lightly across her swollen, sensitive nub  
_ "Oh Maker! Uh..."  
Anders looked over at her, "Everything OK, Hawke?" His face was composed. That wicked, wicked mage...`  
"I...uh...oh just...more drinks! I've run out." She said pathetically  
_He pushed his thumb against her wetness again and again, circling her clit through the fabric of her pants...  
_ "I'll go." said Isabella, and winked.  
As she departed, Anders finally gave some hint of acknowledgement of what he was doing to her under the table. He smiled attractively and whispered, "you must be so wet by now, mustn't you?"  
It was all she could do not to gasp in arousal. She had to get some air.  
"Anders...i'll be...right back."  
Marion stood shakily. Maker, she felt dizzy! She weaved in and out of the crowd towards the back exit and stepped over the threshold into the cool night air. Outside the moon was shining upon the paved streets, making tham appear almost attractive. She leaned against the wall and let the air seep into her lungs, calming the lust that Anders' fingers had coaxed from her.  
"Feeling alright?"  
Marion started at the unexpected interruption, only to find Sebastian leaning against the wall next to her.  
"Sweet Andraste! Seb, don't _do_ that!"  
He laughed huskily, "startle you, did I? You seemed a bit...distracted."  
Marion laughed in relief, "You have nooooo idea! Ugh, I think I drank one ale too many. Curse birthdays. Feeling fuzzy."  
"You and me both, Marion,"  
Sebastian studied her profile in the moonlight as she leaned her head upon the stone wall behind them. He moved closer.  
"You're a beautiful woman, you know. Tell me, how does it feel to know you have such an effect of all the men whose paths you cross?"  
Marion frowned a little and looked over to him, "I'm sure you have plenty of problems with females, Sebastian. As well as with male attention...why in the world would you ask such a thing now?"  
All at once he was upon her, pressing his thigh between her legs, his hands traveling like fire over her body as he kissed her forcefully. Through the haze of drunken dizziness, Marion felt his tongue claim hers, and his hardened cock grind against her. She gasped and felt momentarily helpless at his attack of passion.  
"Maker's breath, Marion, i want to fuck you so hard,' he said deeply. His voice was insistent and strong. Despite herself, Marion's body was responding to his touch...  
She pushed him roughly away, "Do I look like some whore to you, Sebastian?" She shouted, "How dare you touch me like that!"  
The rogue was breathing heavily, his eyes dark, the strength of his arousal was palpable in the air between them. Marion pushed him again, "What's _wrong_ with you?" she yelled.  
"What's _wrong _with me?" he heaved, " I'll tell you: seeing you _every_ day for a year, always knowing, _knowing_ I could never have you! Everything about you makes me want to fuck you, and love you and _be_ with you. I'd _die_ for you, Marion! Can't you see that? You drive me mad!" He shouted, pacing on front of her.  
Marion kept her distance, but recognised the desire she felt as she watched sebastian's aggression flare. The idea of his dominance...his desire...fanned the fire of need within her. But when she imagined being with him, the face she saw was Anders'. Such frustration wasn't only driving _her _insane, then.  
"I think you should go," she said quietly.

* * *

**Heya! Sorry for the a between this and my last update! Been busy climbing up mountains whilst on holiday ;) Hope you enjoy...please feel free to rate, follow and review as you wish; I'm very grateful for feedback, as it makes writing this stuff so much more wonderful! :D **


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